“Are you shitting me?” I hiss. He can’t actually think I’ll say yes.
“Okay, maybe we can squeeze in a few of the old venues for nostalgia’s sake. Security is going to be a bitch. But for you, I’d do anything.”
“Except sign the papers.”
His lips kick into a smirk as he shrugs. “I realized that if I signed them, you could get rid of me. And that sounds like a mistake on your part. We’ve been doing this for fourteen years, what’s one more?”
“You’re right. You had years to make amends, and you chose not to. Thanks for the reminder.” I open my clutch and pull out the Uno card before slipping it into the front pocket of his jeans. Wes jerks at the sudden contact, his surprise freezing him into place as I leave.
I storm back into the party, ignoring people who attempt to get my attention as I head toward the exit. Instead of seeking out Jamie, and disrupting his night of celebrating, I text him that I got a headache and am headed home. He doesn’t respond, but that’s to be expected, he has better things to do.
When I get to the coat check, the attendant is gone. I’m in no mood to stand around, so I start to open the door and hear shuffling inside.
The first moan reaches me as I push farther into the closet, and recognition freezes me to the spot. Jamie is standing with his back to the open door. His trousers are down, caught around his calves, and there’s a red dress clenched in his fist.
My red dress.
His hips surge into Harper. He’s pressed her against the back wall, hands cupping her ass. Acute bliss has captured her features. Eyes rolled back. Shimmering lips shaped in an “O.”
I can’t look away.
“I thought I told you ten minutes,” he says in a thick lust-drenched voice. “I paid you to fuck off.”
“Going to the trouble of bribing someone and then not locking the door? That’s really lazy,” I say as an old feeling flares to life in my chest.
Harper’s eyes fly to me. She releases a sharp yelp and shoves Jamie away. Attempting to regain some sense of modesty, she rushes to pull down the dress. Jamie must forget that his pants are around his legs because he turns, taking a step and nearly falls. He grunts and manages to catch himself on a rack, sending designer coats tumbling to the ground.
“It’s not—” they both start to say.
“Save it.” I sigh. “Harper, I’d expect this from a man. But I thought you’d realize you deserve better than this. I guess he’s been railing you so hard that you forgot you used to have a fucking backbone.”
I’m out of the closet before they can finish composing themselves. Anger rushes to my head as I return to the party, a buzz as effective as any drug.
A hand latches around my arm, and I stumble, drunk on my own disorientation.
“Avery,” Jamie says, as if he has a right to call out to me. “Avery, just stop and listen.”
“To what?” I demand, spinning to face him. His fingers dig divots into the soft flesh of my forearm. I pretend not to notice, invading his space until there’s barely an inch between us. “No, please share. I’m curious. Tell me the story. Make me feel sorry for the man who just had the best night of his life. Tell me how I should begratefulto be here, because no matter how fucking long I’ve been proving myself, I have to keep doing it, while you get tofuckmy assistant.” My voice is level, despite my fury. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of me turning into a shrieking mess. “I think it’s about time you let go of me.”
“You’ll regret walking away from everything we have. Because of me and my movie, people are talking about you and your music again.”
I scoff. “I was someone before you, but you were nameless before me.” A truth I’ve kept clenched in my jaw; a tension I’ve ignored. My name was the boost he needed to make sure his first Hollywood project would become a blockbuster hit and jumpstart his career. What did I get? To smile next to a man who is so stupid he forgot to lock the door before he cheated on me, all so I can get a good headline or two. Fuck that. “Love me or hate me, they’ll never get enough of Avery Sloane.” I tugagainst his grip. “Good luck making a sequel that people give a shit about.”
Desperation to cling to music has made mesomeone, that’s for sure. Someone pathetic, apparently.
Before he has a chance to respond, a sparkling stream of champagne collides with his face, dripping from his chin and drenching his once pristine velvet-trimmed tux. He steps back, releasing me and wiping the liquid from his eyes. “What the fuck?”
“I think she said to let go, but you do have a face that just begs to have a drink thrown at it.” The calculated calm in Wes’s voice settles me. Every cell in my body knows he’d stand by me against anyone in this room. Against anyone, anywhere.
Jamie bristles, shoulders pulling taut, ready to march at us.
Wes tuts, twirling the stem of the glass between his fingers like a school boy with a pen. “I was being nice with the drink. I have no problem breaking your pretty face. I’ve done far worse for her for less.”
“What the fuck is he even doing here?” Jamie bites out, eyes wide and verging on feral.
A hush has drifted through the venue since the rest of the guests have stopped trying to be subtle about eavesdropping. He was going to learn this lesson eventually; too bad it’s the hard way. The only thing they love more than an underdog is a fall from grace.
I peer at Wes, who, even after everything, is here with me. The answer is obvious now that the clouds have cleared. “I invited him.” I tilt my head so I’m staring directly into the lens of a phone. “We’re going on tour together.”
